


Shattered

by Thigh_Bone



Category: Original Work
Genre: D/s, Humiliation, M/M, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-21
Updated: 2014-11-21
Packaged: 2018-02-26 12:00:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2651285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thigh_Bone/pseuds/Thigh_Bone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Master breaks Pet apart with just a few casually cruel words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shattered

**Author's Note:**

> This was a writing exercise that I did just to play a little with styles and verbiage. I’m actually not quite sure how I feel about it; it seems sort of like kinky poetry in a way—a little too artsy for me. But it’s still n/c watersports, so I’m still into it.

Pressure. Not building, not unfolding, not blooming—crushing. “Master, please…” Shame. Flood after flood of bitter humiliation, begging like a dog for the most basic of needs.

“What, pet?” Dismissal, disinterest—almost more cutting than a denial.

“I need to—may I—” Tongue tied; still can’t manage it. The acidic taste of mortification clings to the throat. This is not a request that should be ever have to be made.

“You need to what?” And yet he forces the request all the same.

“Go to th—the ba—bathroom.” There. It’s done, surely this nightmare can be over now?

“No.”

Hope dies messy and brutal, and still there is so much pressure, so much pain. It almost distracts from the embarrassment; it almost outweighs the fear of questioning. “Master?”

“I said no, kitten.” Hard. Cruel in the places where there had only been indifference before. It should be terrifying. 

It is terrifying. But the pressure grows in some indefinable way, bubbles up, expands, and a little slips out, a few little drops of unintended disobedience. That is a concept far more petrifying than speaking out again. “But I don’t think I can hold it.”

The smile comes—a quick flash of malignant intent and perverse enjoyment—and then it is gone again as rapidly and unexpectedly as it had appeared. “I suppose we will find out, won’t we.”

Control erodes a fraction more; failure is eminent. “Pl—please…” One last attempt to fend off the inevitable. One last attempt to hold the demons at bay.

“Hush now. I’m trying to work.” The final nail in the coffin.

They both knew it was always coming to this, always condensing down and focusing in on this moment, but when it comes it’s still a surprise. “Oh, oh—” It’s much hotter than expected, searing heat racing down one thigh as growing horror rips open the chest cavity. The nerve-born leather-winged beasts slamming themselves against the confinement of his ribcage are set free now, but they tear away bloody chunks of flesh to feast on as they flee. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, so sorr— ” Thrust into darkness; the unknown frightens more than the humiliation degrades. “Forgive me, Master.”

Shockingly, more disinterest. “It seems you’ve made a mess, boy. You know I detest messes. Clean it up.” Casual. Brutal in his calm destruction. Apathy, slight inflection, and a surety that obedience is eminent does more than any raised voice, any heavy-handed threat could ever do.

“Master?” Hope--stupid, pitiful hope that is somehow more shameful than any of this—tries to give one last dying gasp. Maybe Master won’t make him…

“Yes boy, don’t play stupid—it doesn’t suit you. With your tongue.”

Everything shatters.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr. http://thigh-bone.tumblr.com/


End file.
